re so much danger?"

"What makes you think that?"

"I overheard the order you gave Roland."

"Serves you right for listening at doors. How about Gohier?"

"He hasn't come."

"Nor his wife?"

"She is here."

Bonaparte pushed Josephine aside with his hand and entered the salon. He
found Madame Gohier alone and very pale.

"What!" said he, without any preamble, "isn't the President coming?"

"He was unable to do so, general," replied Madame Gohier.

Bonaparte repressed a movement of impatience. "He absolutely must come,"
said he. "Write him that I await him, and I will have the note sent."

"Thank you, general," replied Madame Gohier; "my servants are here, and
they can attend to that."

"Write, my dear friend, write," said Josephine, offering her paper and
pen and ink.

Bonaparte stood so that he could see over her shoulder what she wrote.
Madame Gohier looked fixedly at him, and he drew back with a bow. She
wrote the note, folded it, and looked about her for the sealing-wax;
but, whether by accident or intention, there was none. Sealing the note
with a wafer, she rang the bell. A servant came.

"Give this note to Comtois," said Madame Gohier, "and bid him take it to
the Luxembourg at once."

Bonaparte followed the servant, or rather the letter, with his eyes
until the door closed. Then, turning to Madame Gohier, he said: "I
regret that I am unable to breakfast with you. But if the President has
business to attend to, so have I. You must breakfast with my wife. Good
appetite to you both."

And he went out. At the door he met Roland.

"Here is the commission, general," said the young man, "and a pen."

Bonaparte took the pen, and using the back of his aide-de-camp's hat, he
signed the commission. Roland gave him the pistols.

"Did you look; to them?" asked Bonaparte.

Roland smiled. "Don't be uneasy," said he; "I'll answer for them."

Bonaparte slipped the pistols in his belt, murmuring as he did so: "I
wish I knew what she wrote her husband."

"I can tell you, word for word, what she wrote, general," said a voice
close by.

"You, Bourrienne?"

"Yes. She wrote: 'You did right not to come, my dear; all that is
happening here convinces me that the invitation was only a snare. I will
rejoin you shortly.'"

"You unsealed the letter?"

"General, Sextus Pompey gave a dinner on his galley to Antony and
Lepidus. His freedman said to him: 'Shall I make you emperor of the
world?' 'How can you do it